


No hill or mountain we can’t climb

by ayjee



Series: Dysfunctional yet loving synth family number two [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, family feels galore, with a side serving of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayjee/pseuds/ayjee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaun gets used to living with his dad. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No hill or mountain we can’t climb

Shaun knows the soldier is a synth. He remembers seeing his file and a couple of others back at the Institute. M7-97, fighting unit, last known location: Brotherhood settlement. Shaun remembers this, because Justin Ayo couldn’t stop laughing after reading it.

“Why don’t you go back to Boston Airport?” Shaun asks him one day. The man stills, then resumes tightening screws on the right leg of a power armor.

“I know paladins are important,” Shaun continues. “Dad taught me the different ranks. Don’t they need you there?”

“I’m busy,” the paladin says. He doesn’t turn to look at him, but Shaun sees the way his jaw clenches.

Shrugging, Shaun leaves the garage to look for Dogmeat. At least the dog is always willing to play. He can tell Danse doesn’t like him, and while he doesn’t really care, he wonders _why_. The only adults who gave him the side-eye at the Institute were human scientists; he got along well with the synths. So why is this one any different?

He asks his dad about it that night. They’re huddled together on Shaun’s bed, eating Fancy Lads straight from the box and reading comics. (Father would’ve disapproved of late night snacking. Shaun misses him, but he enjoys the freedom that comes with living away from the Institute.)

“Did Danse get his memories erased?”

“What? No,” his dad says, giving him a weird look over the dog-eared magazine. Then his forehead wrinkles. “I mean… yes, probably. Why do you ask?”

Shaun shrugs. “He’s angry with me, and I don’t know why. The other synths were all friendly. But I heard Father say some people on the surface erased synths’ memories. He said it drove them crazy.”

“Did he now,” Dad says. The comic lays forgotten in his lap and he looks tense, as always when Father gets mentioned. Shaun knows it is remorse, for destroying the Institute. “Danse isn’t crazy. He knows he is a synth.”

“But he is different from the synths that worked at the Institute,” Shaun points out.

His dad rubs at his neck. “That’s because he thought he was human, until… very recently. He needs time. To get used to the idea.”

“That sounds so weird,” Shaun says. He feels anxious all of a sudden, and bites at the skin of his thumb. “How can you not know what you are?”

Dad looks away. “Beats me, kid. It does sound impossible.”

Shaun is hesitant to push the subject, but he’s been wondering about this for a while. “Why didn’t you bring him back to the Institute? Danse, I mean. Maybe he would’ve been happier with reprogrammed memories. Father kept hoping you would do it.”

Dad breathes deeply, like he’s trying to stay calm. "Shaun,” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “I know you don’t like me saying it, but Father and I disagreed on a lot of things. God, I can’t believe he told you about this.”

It’s Shaun’s turn to drop his gaze. “He didn’t, not exactly. I overheard his conversation with the head of the SRB.” More like broke into the bureau’s terminal, but Dad doesn’t need to know that.

"Still,” Dad insists. He shakes his head.

“Back on the Prydwen, people told me you’d killed Danse because he was a synth.” Shaun keeps his eyes down for this one, so he notices when Dad’s fingers stop drumming on his thigh.

“Well… I lied,” Dad says slowly. “Obviously.”

“Why?”

“I had to, if I wanted to stay with the Brotherhood. Killing synths is what we do. Part of it, anyway.”

Shaun frowns. “Then… you could’ve just sent him back to the Institute. They never hurt runaway synths.”

“Maybe not,” Dad says, brushing cake crumbs off his chest as he sits up. “But they would’ve erased his memories. Different means, same result. The person I knew would be gone.”

Shaun can’t help but smile. Sometimes his dad sounds like such a surface dweller. “But synths aren’t people…”

Dad rubs a hand over his eyes. “I guess not. But he was a friend before I learned he was a synth. You don’t just… stop caring,” he says. Then he hangs his head. “I can’t, anyway.”

“So,” Shaun says after a while, chewing on his bottom lip, “is he going to stay with us?”

Dad turns to face him, frowning. “Well… yes. Does this upset you?”

“No. It’s just. I thought…”

A pause, a sigh. “What’s this about, kid?”

“I just. I’ve been wondering.” Shaun hates how whiny he sounds, but he can’t help it. There are weeks of confused emotions and questioning bubbling up inside him. “You like Danse and since he doesn’t like me… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d send me away.”

His dad’s expression goes from confused to stunned. “Shaun…”

“Let me stay here,” Shaun says, stumbling over his words. “I’ll be good, Dad. I promise I won’t bother him again. I just want to be with you.”

“Shaun. Kiddo,” Dad says, putting both hands on his shoulders. “You listen to me, okay? Listen carefully.”

Shaun nods, and snirfles like an idiot. “Okay.”

“I will never, ever send you away, you hear me? Never. You are the most important thing in my life now. Hell, you _are_ my fucking life.” Dad’s grip on his shoulders gets so tight it hurts, but it’s the curse word that makes Shaun gasp.

“Language, Dad!”

“Fuck language. Come here,” Dad says, and pulls him into a hug. Usually, Shaun would struggle – Dad likes to cuddle him like he’s a baby or something – but this time, he welcomes it. Leans into the embrace, presses his cheek against his dad’s worn t-shirt, and closes his eyes. He feels warm. And safe.

“I got you, okay?”

“Okay.” Shaun lets himself be held. The scientists weren’t big on hugs, but he could get used to this, he thinks.

Until the smell of sweat and motor oil hits him.

“Ugh, you stink!”

Dad snorts. “And you’re smearing snot all over my shirt, but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

“Am not,” he grumbles. He accepts the offered handkerchief anyway. More like a rag cloth, with traces of grease here and there, but it will do. He wipes his nose carefully.

“So,” Dad says, shoving the folded cloth back into his pocket. “Are we good?”

“Yes.”

“No more crazy talk, okay kid? And don’t mind Danse. Grumpy is his default mood.”

“Okay,” Shaun says with a yawn. He lets Dad tuck him into bed, watches him put the comic and the snacks back on the desk. He groans at the mandatory hair ruffling, like he’s expected to.

“Sleep tight, Shaun.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

He falls asleep looking at the pre-war cola ad Dad put on the wall opposite to his bed. (“Just a place-holder, until you think of something better.”)

\---

Danse is still working on the damaged power armor when Ned returns to the garage.

“He’s asleep.” Not sure why he bothers; it’s not like Danse has shown any interest in the boy’s schedule.

Not that he ought to. Ned is in a bad mood though.

“You have to tell him,” Danse says, not looking away from the circuitry he’s taking apart.

“Right. Of course. What could possibly go wrong?” He knows he’s being unfair, but he can’t help it. “It would destroy him. If you’d heard our conversation, you wouldn’t even bring this up.”

Danse shrugs. “He will find out, you know.”

“Then I’ll be forced to deal with it. Problem solved.”

This makes Danse turn to look at him. “Come on, this isn’t like you. Be honest with him. He’ll thank you for it, eventually.”

Ned huffs. “Why don’t we talk about something else?”

“You owe it to him,” Danse insists.

Ned closes the space between them and hooks one hand behind Danse’s neck. “I changed my mind. How about we don’t talk at all,” he says, and punctuates the last words with a less than subtle thrust against Danse’s crotch.

For a moment Danse looks like he’s about to say something nasty; torn between rightful indignation and lust. Then the latter takes over. Barely, for he still sounds angry when he says, “Fine by me.”


End file.
